Silence
by AngelCeleste85
Summary: Another angsty phic set right after Christine leaves. Feel free to roast me for writing it. PG for mild language.


Disclaimer: Whatever it is, I didn't do it, I don't own it, please don't sue me! Use of lines from ALW, I hand over the credit to him for creating them and I'm not making money off of this.  
  
Author's note: Thanks for your patience, I've come back from a hiatus that seems to have been forever. Actually, I didn't mean to leave y'all in the lurch, but I moved and lost Internet access for about three months and had no way to post these phics again until now. This is a short little drabble that came to me recently - well over 100 words (614, to be exact) but far short of even a short story: it's intended only as a snapshot phic.  
  
Also, "Lachesis," "After the Opera" and "Poor Fool" are still in production and I will update those as soon as I can. Thanks again - and now, the show resumes!  
  
// Erik's thoughts //  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Silence by AngelCeleste85  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
// God give me courage to show you... //  
  
The little house by the lake was silent, except for the soft scratching of the old-fashioned quill pen making its monotonal music of scratches on a simple sheet of parchment. The room was dark, but for a single wax taper atop the piano casting its steady gleam around to reveal dust everywhere: on the piano bench, in the air, and on the keys of the instrument it sat upon. Beside the candle sat a silver-white porcelain mask. There was not a soul in the room, save the shadow at the elegant instrument.  
  
// God give me courage to show you... //  
  
Memory, days old now but seared into Erik's brain, memory of those final few minutes of Christine's light, flooded his mind constantly now. So many memories had been made here in so brief a time, every one excruciating to an eidetic memory. She was in every part of this place - sometimes, he fancied he could still smell the faint scent of the perfume she used here. Everything that he looked at, touched, felt...  
  
// God give me courage... //  
  
It all came back to one person.  
  
// You are not... //  
  
Christine.  
  
// "God give me courage to show you... you are not alone!" //  
  
Thoughts flew rapidly.  
  
// But that's just it, isn't it? //  
  
Emotions changed with each word written: bitter anger, the ever-ready sarcasm that was both his sword and shield.  
  
// "You are not alone!" //  
  
The one constant factor remained the despair that slumped his shoulders.  
  
// You knew that was a lie. //  
  
Scratch-scratch-scratch went the pen, dutifully recoding Erik's musical thoughts though the mind behind them had wandered to other things.  
  
// I *am* alone. As I was in the beginning, as I was before you came... I am alone in the shadows. //  
  
The pen stopped, and as Erik looked up from the page the candlelight changed him, a simple shadow lacking definition, into the horrific parody of a man.  
  
// I had resigned myself, you know. //  
  
Candlelight softened the twisted deformities of his face, bathing them in a gentle golden glow until a pale hand came up to hide it all.  
  
// Before you came, I had resigned myself. I knew that I would live my life alone, and die alone. //  
  
The hand became a fist that crashed down on the ivory treble keys of the beloved piano. The jangling discord grated his nerves and hid the crack of the aged instrument.  
  
// Damn you forever for giving me hope! //  
  
Again the fist came down.  
  
// Bloody Pandora, you had to see what I was hiding! //  
  
And again.  
  
// How could you! //  
  
Three keys shattered beneath the next blow, but Erik didn't notice.  
  
// Finally I had found some measure of contentment, if not peace, and you had to come destroy that with hope! //  
  
Another blow, this time on the lid of the piano.  
  
"Damn you, Christine!"  
  
As if in response, the wooden pegs holding the piano together, rotting undetected in the cool, ever-present damp of the cavern, disintegrated entirely at the final blow. Dust flew everywhere, the candle flickered violently and went out. The sounding board split, the legs cracked, and the strings snapped as the instrument that had been Erik's only friend throughout the long years died in a shocked, silent heap before him. The man bent over in grief, unseen in the darkness, and touched the ruins of his voice.  
  
The only sound that remained was the soft sound of a mute man weeping.  
  
Soon, even that vanished, replaced only by the silence of the grave.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
After that Houdini act, I could do with some decent chow. Feed me, please?  
  
- AngelCeleste85 


End file.
